By John Y. Brown III, on Fri Apr 19, 2013 at 12:00 PM ET
Creatures of habit and dorsal fins
I remember in 3rd grade learning that some fish used to have a dorsal fin but no longer does because over the centuries there was no longer a need for it and it just sort of evaporated with time.
We humans are comfortable with what we know and have to be dragged kicking and screaming to try a new way of doing things (in the workplace and at home), even when it is obvious to everyone but us it is a far superior to our current approach
And then we try it.
And eventually get comfortable with it and even become an advocate for the “new way.”
Until there is a newer and obviously superior way to do things.
And we have to be dragged kicking and screaming to change from the old new way we are now comfortable with to the newer new way,
Maybe the solution is to give up our notion of ever being on auto pilot. Of ever getting too accustomed or comfortable with any process. Maybe the comfort of habit is like a human dorsal fin that has outlived its purpose
But that’s an awfully uncomfortable thought.
Maybe we can at least make a fashion statement with our dorsal fin of mindless habit. Pierce or tattoo it –or hang our new high tech gadgets (iPhone or Wifi tablets) on our hook of a needless fin.
But don’t get rid of it completely.
I may not need or use it but I don’t want to give it up.
By John Y. Brown III, on Thu Apr 18, 2013 at 12:00 PM ET
Gangsta fantasies and crotchety, judgmental old men (me) advising.
Seeing several privileged white kids at a private school in Louisville trying to look “gansta” made me remember this video.
This is as about as tough, fellas, as you coul…d ever hope to look. (Please watch the video.) And you will never look or be as “street” as Vanilla Ice. And that should deter you.
It just ain’t happening.
Comb you hair. Pull up your pants. Tuck in your shirt. Do your homework. Because not doing your homework is about as “bad” as you are ever going to be.
By Jennifer Mann, on Thu Apr 18, 2013 at 10:00 AM ET
Only a few months have passed since I left office as a state representative—a position I held for fourteen years. I entered the Pennsylvania House of Representatives an entrepreneur, having started my first business at the age of 25, and gained a reputation during my tenure as a business-friendly legislator. During the last few years of serving my district, an inner voice increasingly grew louder, calling me back to the private sector and to new challenges.
Without missing a beat, I launched a consulting firm immediately after leaving office. I never really gave myself an opportunity to enjoy a transition period in which I could reflect upon the past 14 years with the exception of a brief moment of an awkward feeling in not seeing my name on the ballot. And so, for the most part, my transition happened. No fanfare and no deep thoughts of reflection,
My new reality began to hit home immediately upon showing up to work—alone. Although I never took for granted the dedicated staffers who worked for me, and I did realize just how dependent I was on them, I just didn’t know how hard it would be to maintain the level of activity without them, until I was out on my own. Most of all, I miss their presence. The past presidential election brought some pretty bad jokes about empty chairs, but now when I walk into my office, it’s me, myself, and I, and…that empty chair in the corner. I miss the smiles and the chatter and the interoffice banter (It still happens some today, but by email and it’s not the same).
Fortunately, my new business involves a lot of face time with clients, prospective clients and those my clients would like to do business with. I am by the nature of my work in the company of others daily. But now, I am solely responsible for the scheduling of meetings, for the execution for each item on the to-do lists I bring out of meetings, and for the meticulous follow up I am known for. No more delegation. As a state representative, 90 percent of my to-do list would be carried out by my reliable team. Now, it’s me, myself and I…and that empty chair.
But I still enjoy a touch of public life in some regards. I remain active with local charities, nonprofits, and serve on boards making speeches, shaking hands, and conversing with colleagues about political hot topics. Though I enjoy remaining connected in that way, I have to consciously draw the line and remind myself where to stop.
For example, the Washington Bureau writer of my city newspaper recently asked me to share my thoughts about a poll concerning next year’s gubernatorial election. Instinctively, I began to formulate a response. But then after thinking the matter through for a few moments, I decided to decline. Although I felt honored that a reporter approached me for a quote even though he was aware I left office, the torch has been passed and it is time to let others weigh in.
That is not to say I will no longer make comment concerning issues involving state government. As a state representative, I sponsored legislation to protect children against sexual predators and widen law enforcement’s net in capturing those who harm them. Protecting our children from predators is an issue dear to my heart and I will gladly lend my voice to protecting those young ones.
Life changed substantially since I left office. I do not regret my decision to return to the private sector and I remain excited by the prospects ahead. The transition I never took is moving full speed ahead on its own, as it will for any of us who have served our constituents over time. I look forward to sharing with you in the months ahead my reflections of that journey.
Have you ever felt the weight of the world beating down on you? That moment when your struggles are omnipresent and you brace for the impact of impending doom? That you gasp for air, reaching desperately for a glass of water that’s half empty instead of half full?
We’ve all at one time or another had an encounter with Murphy’s Law. If it can go wrong, it will and it will happen thrice as bad as we can ever prepare for. This is my story of trials and tribulations – and the reason why I truly believe the worlds ills can sometimes be solved with a jar of Jiff and a few “likes”:
Why I Wear Combat Boots
January 2012: I was working as an Account Executive for a media company in my debut as a grown up, lugging around a 400-pound briefcase in a pencil skirt and high heels – truly believing that hard work was important, but image was everything. Much to my dismay, those pretty little patent-leather platform-pumps caused the tragic and premature demise of my beloved Camry. To be fair, I had put her through a lot. She lovingly persevered through countless hit-and-runs, a few tows, and the irresponsible behavior that defined college. She and her seatbelt also saved my life that night as I flipped across the highway, landing right side up without a scratch. I threw those heels away the next day.
Why Loving Your Career Shouldn’t Feel Like A Job
February 2012: There comes a moment in time in one’s life where you realize you have become a hamster spinning on a wheel. I was tired of being tired, giving my all and feeling constant defeat. I like to believe we all possess a sense of intuition, some stronger than others. My gut was screaming at me to make a change – and not my diet – my life. I was so busy that I paid no attention to what sounded like scratching noises coming from my cabinets. That, and the fact that my dog’s food was magically disappearing even though he was gone for a week…
Why Family Comes First
March 6th, 2012: I had become such a drone that it had been months since I made a trip in to see my family – something I have always done regularly and often. I was so self absorbed that I barely noticed my Grandfather reaching for the gas tank lever instead of the door handle. I immediately dismissed it; afraid of causing unnecessary stress and anxiety in our family and myself.
Read the rest of… Christie Mitchell: Adversity: How I Overcame Life’s Struggles With Social Media and Peanut Butter
Q: I’m considering running for office in 2014, but here is my dilemma: I am not sure I want to put myself out there. My father and grandfather were both elected officials, and my father has encouraged me to run. I think I could win based largely on name ID, but having to knock on doors just is not my cup of tea. Do you think I could win without doing that?
—Definitely no initials or location!
A few thoughts.
First, you have to f—ing want it. If you don’t want it, voters sense it. And you’ll probably lose.
That said, knowing nothing about what office you’d run for or who your opponent(s) might be, or how hard you’d work (or they’d work), yes, I think you could win. I’m sure you’ve considered this, but your family probably has residual name recognition and, especially if your father or grandfather is alive, they likely retain fundraising connections that could benefit you. As a general rule I abhor dynasty candidates since so few compare to their parents (with some notable exceptions, such as Jeb Bush or the impressive Udall brothers), but the fact is that most Americans vote like they shop, and when given the choice between 7-Up and Super-Up, they usually buy 7-Up.
Second, if you dread knocking on doors, you probably shouldn’t get into politics. It is, of course, a people business, and if you don’t like people, you’re going to be pretty miserable most of the time. New York Times Magazine writer Matt Bai once profiled someone who reminds me of you, Rhode Island Gov. Lincoln Chafee, whose father, John, was a legendary U.S. senator. During Linc’s first campaign, for delegate to the state’s constitutional convention, he went to his home turf to knock on doors. According to Bai, “He sat there for 20 minutes, holding a stack of palm cards with his picture on them, trying to work up the courage to get out of the car.”
Now, he’s turned into a pretty successful pol, first reaching the U.S. Senate and, after a 2006 loss, recovering to win an unusual independent bid for governor four years later. Still, if you’ll read the profile, you’ll see that he doesn’t actually appear to enjoy the lifestyle—and these days, his numbers are in the tank. So, before doing it to please your family, take a hard look at what you’re getting into. I usually found it amusing when people slammed doors in my face. If you’re more sensitive, you’re gonna struggle, at least at first. And remember—some introverted dynasty candidates (think Al Gore) seem much happier now that they’re out of the game.
Q: Hey, Jeff, definitely not complaining, but why have you been writing about sex so much lately?
—N.L., Washington, D.C.
Because I’m married, and my wife is pregnant.
Read the rest of… Jeff Smith: Do As I Say — A Political Advice Column
By John Y. Brown III, on Mon Mar 18, 2013 at 12:00 PM ET
My latest athletic injury story….
I strained my calf muscle on Wednesday and had to ice it most of that evening and some the next day.
Here’s how it happened.
“So, late Wednesday afternoon I left my office and walked down the three stairs out the back door.”
That’s it. That’s the whole story. Nothing else happened. No rugby match. No extreme sports. No cross-fit workout. No heroic game winning score. I injured myself walking down three steps.
But after several days of convalescence I seem to be recovering fully and should be able to ascend and descend stairs again by early next week!!!
By John Y. Brown III, on Thu Mar 14, 2013 at 12:00 PM ET
Aging and heroism. (Or Worse than Kryptonite)
Did you ever have one of those days where you get called on for a dramatic heroic act that will save the day, but as you step into the phone booth to change into your Superman costume, your mind goes blank and you literally can’t recall for a several seconds if you are Superman or Batman?
And then, after regaining your composure, start to really regret being Superman and grumble to yourself, “This s**t is getting old. They never ask the guy in the office next to me to do this sort of stuff. In fact, he’s at lunch now with the COO. That’s just so wrong! Next week I am going to say something about it.”
And then, as you are taking your time changing–it now takes 5-7 min to change at age 49– you get in a shouting match with some 19 year old who needs to use the phone, who calls you “Lame.” And that really ticks you off and you threaten to keep your street clothes on and not do your heroic deed until some older adult pulls the 19 year old aside and gives him his cell phone for his call?
And then as you are tying your cape, you realize you have love handles pushing out either side of the spandex Superman top. And you are just hoping you can avoid flying and let the cape cover your sides today? Or at least fly at an angle where others won’t notice and comment?
And you make a note to wear sunglasses in the future because you are embarrassed how you look in the Superman costume?
And then, finally, after waiting until now one is looking, you try to burst out of the phone booth but the phone booth door is jammed? You shake and jiggle it. And even do so strenuously but realize that even with your super powers, at this age, you aren’t strong enough to force open the door by yourself?
And so you get the attention of the 19 year old who you had a shouting match with and is now finished with his cell phone call and ask him nicely if he’d try to open the phone booth door from the outside? And apologize for losing your cool as he is smiling smugly to himself and opens the phone booth door for you with two fingers using his left hand?
And then you forget where you are and what you are doing and ask the 19 year old if he still has the cell phone he borrowed so you can check with Google Maps for directions? But he doesn’t have it, of course, because he’s given it back to the stranger who was trying to protect your feelings?
And you walk off dejected? But see a coffee shop and decide to get a latte and a pastry. But after you order remember you are in your Superman costume and forget to bring any money with you? And you want to point out that your Superman and this should really be on the house given all your done for the community over the years —and about to do today? But you decide that discretion is the better part of courage. And apologize and promise to come back later that day (after your super hero mission is complete, but you don’t say this….just thinking this to yourself)?
And after getting lectured by the manager about how he’s just trying to run a business and shouldn’t have to deal with “people like you” you walk out the door and even though you can’t remember where you parked and don’t have your keys anyway after the phone booth change, you are secretly pleased with yourself and feel like you FINALLY caught a break today because you at least got a free latte and pastry?
And make a gentle mental note to yourself that when you send your Superman costume to the cleaners this time to have them take it out two inches in the waist. Again.
If you answer yes, well, you are not alone. Me too!
Sports teaches us about ourselves. Who we are, who we want to become. They also teach us about drive, the inner fire that tell you to keep going when it hurts or not to quit when you want to.
The above video is a true story, an inspirational story if you will. A story, on some level, we all can relate too; the fight to not quit when things get tough and the inner fire to keep going when you don’t want to. Derek Redmond was an Olympian, a world class athlete who was competing for his country. There could be no bigger honor than that, to be on the largest stage in sport.
The unfortunate part is the way the story seems to end. Derek, in a position to take home an Olympic medal, pulls his hamstring in the semi-finals of the 400 meters at the 1992 Barcelona Olympiad.
To work your entire life to get one opportunity and your body just says “No.” What happens from there is the definition of courage and a “never give up” attitude. Derek knew in his heart and mind he had lost but he would not quit, he would finish. He picks his broken body up and carries it, with the help of his father, to the finish line. Take a second and reflect, have you ever quit something? Have you given up on your fitness goals and past achievements because you don’t believe you can do it anymore?
Use this as an example that life will always build walls you must break down and obstacles that you must climb. It are these missions that truly define us as human beings and we must remember that nothing and I mean nothing is impossible.
Just never quit. Never quit on yourself and never quit on your dream. The time is now.
By Artur Davis, on Tue Mar 12, 2013 at 10:00 AM ET
Chris Christie has conservative admirers left, and I’m hardly the only one. The Christie following on the right includes much of the audience that heard him at the Reagan Library in 2011, delivering what stands then and now as the sharpest, best rhetorical critique of Barack Obama’s contribution to Washington’s divided ways.
It takes in social conservatives who know the isolation of living inside hostile lines in the Northeast, and who have relished a voice that defends unborn life and opposes same sex marriage and can do so without resorting to condescension or seeming stuck in a time warp.
The camp also includes critics of what public sector unions have done to bloat state budgets, and what teachers unions have done to make teaching the least accountable public service, and who recognize that Christie has tamed both forces in a state where they traditionally make politicians cower.
I will claim conflict of interest on the question of whether Christie ought to speak at the upcoming CPAC event (full disclosure, I am one of what an MSNBC reporter called the developmental league of lesser talents who will speak at the convention: it’s a chance to hone our meager skills before a small intimate gathering!) But the broader question of whether Christie helps strengthen the Republican coalition is not really close. While lacking Mitt Romney’s capacity to write a $3800 check, I’ll cast the same vote in favor of Christie’s relevance and his potential.
Until there is a newer and obviously superior way to do things.
